Into The Deep Roads
by FactoryKat
Summary: Hawke, Carver, Varric, and Anders have kicked off their expedition after some initial setbacks. Of course, nothing could ever go smoothly. One of them is less than enthused to be below ground, another is wrestling with some unexpected emotions for his friend and someone amongst them won't be making it home. Welcome to the Deep Roads.


The deep roads expedition was well underway.

After finding a way around the collapse and rescuing Bodahn's son from what turned out to be a non-threat, the group had reconvened at camp in preparation to make the journey through the alternate route. It was going to add on a little more time to their initial estimate, but Bartrand had been confident that it would be worth it. For now, everyone was advised to rest up and prepare for a long trek the next day. With the number they had, it was quick and light work to set up camp. _Many hands_, Wyatt remembered his father repeating fondly. The three of them - his mother, father and himself all before the twins were old enough - worked tirelessly on the farm back in Lothering. He was no stranger to hard labor. It kept him grounded and humbled, or so he thought.

Once everything was established, as newcomers, the boys accepted the duty of starting a fire and preparing a meal for those who wished to partake. Stew was on the menu tonight - a tried and true Feredelan dish of course. The preparation was simple and meant dinner was ready for consumption before long.

Most of Bartrand's men had already filled their bellies on some other fare, likely provided by the dwarf himself. However, a handful still took from the stew, followed by Carver, Varric and -

Someone was missing.

A certain blonde healer was not immediately visible in Wyatt's line of sight as he searched the area with just a sweeping glance. Perhaps he hadn't heard the call of supper?

Hawke approached his companion's tent and parted the flaps. "Hey Anders did you-" Caches of herbs, empty potion flasks and sheets of parchment littered the interior but Anders himself was notably absent. He didn't expect the mage to have abandoned them, but Wyatt did recall the harrowed look in his eyes and short controlled breaths he had taken when they first began their descent underground.

He couldn't say that being down here was at all _pleasant,_ even though he was already eager to return to the surface, to see daylight and breathe Lowtown's stagnant air, hot and acidic at its best. Passing judgment on anyone else would be inconsiderate.

The question remained - where had Anders gone?

Finding him had not been difficult. In an offshoot tunnel that had collapsed, just a few yards north of where Bartrand and his men had set up, Anders was standing pensively at the mouth of a deep chasm. Tension pulled his shoulders taut while he stared out at the sprawling expanse of endless tunnels and layers of stone overhead. His rigid posture spoke volumes, as did the tenacity of his grip on the staff he leaned on earnestly.

This was not a man content to be underground.

A sympathetic hand reached out to offer comfort. Such a simple action - performed of his own volition - twisted his insides into a jittery knot. It was not an appropriate time to be giddy over even the smallest of physical contact, but being cold and unfeeling about his companion's strife wasn't the answer either. "Are you alright?" Hawke inquired with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Despite his obvious discomfort, it had been more than generous of Anders to join them on the expedition for no additional price. He could have declined on the basis of already providing maps but instead, he suffered in silence. To what end?

Of course, his past as a Warden was extremely useful. That he possessed knowledge of both darkspawn and the deep roads served them exceptionally well in addition to his boast-worthy talents as a healer. The prospects made Wyatt more than a little excited. Practicality aside, he considered Anders to be pleasant company, _and equally pleasant to look at._

"Just - feeling a little _closed in_ is all," Anders replied cautiously. If the man was truly feeling ill at ease then he was keeping up appearances for their sake alone.

The crunch of gravel beneath heavy boot steps announced Carver's presence before he even spoke. "So, the former Grey Warden is claustrophobic? How's that for irony."

Tawny brows furrowed in annoyance and Wyatt jabbed an elbow into his brother's chest sharply. Carver recoiled in pain, clutching his body where he'd been hit. "Ow! What in Maker's name was that for?"

Wyatt regarded him critically feeling a frown pull at his lips in stern disapproval. "Could you be a little _less_ of an ass?"

"You look like Father when you do that!" Carver snarked with a bitter, wheezing laugh.

"Shut up, Carver." _Little brothers. _He sighed morosely, avoiding the subject of their father whose presence was sorely missed at a time like this. Since his passing, the transition from simply older brother to the surrogate father-figure role had been a difficult one for Wyatt who favored Malcolm heavily out of his three children. Beyond their physical resemblance tying them - tall and brawny with swarthy red hair - it seemed accepting his new responsibilities meant practically _becoming_ his father at times, from training with the twins, being the one to keep a sharp eye out for templars and protecting the family, or locking horns with Carver as father and son had often done growing up.

Wyatt sincerely wondered if he'd made a mistake bringing his brother along on this trip. Arguments between them were a common occurrence but the memory of what happened to Bethany still intruded his thoughts in the silence when there was nothing to distract his mind.

"You sound like him too..." the younger Hawke griped, still nursing what was sure to bruise in the morning.

Wyatt sucked in a breath through his nose and snorted. He had nothing else to say, and there was no sense in trying to get the last word in.

At least someone found their bickering marginally humorous, judging by the ghost of a grin on Anders' face. Butterflies loosed themselves inside his chest cavity and for a brief minute, he was struck with silence.

Once the moment passed he shook it off and found his voice again. "Feeling a bit better?" He approached Anders cautiously, avoiding making any sudden, startling movements. "Came to let you know we've got a stew going. If you're hungry enough. Can't speak for the quality but I _can_ promise you won't even taste the darkspawn!" Even in the middle of the Deep Roads, Wyatt retained a positive attitude.

Anders eyed him dubiously, brows creased in mild concern.

He winced, realizing his honest attempt at humor fell short. "Sorry. Bad joke."

Carver sighed, visibly exasperated.

Fortunately, Anders was quick to recover and laughed it off in good faith. The curve of his lips and creases at the corners of his warm eyes caught Hawke's attention and he felt his face grow warm. His eyes lingered a little too long, studying, analyzing, committing things to memory - the way Anders had been standing with his feet apart and both hands on his staff, or how the coat made his lean frame appear bulkier than it was, long and slender fingers with a freckle on every other digit.

"Wait-" Carver stopped Wyatt in his tracks just as he turned to follow after Anders back to camp. "You fancy him. Hah! The Mighty Wyatt Hawke felled by a pretty face. Sounds about right. I'm sure Mother would be thrilled."

Of all the things his brother could say. He choked down a stream of protests and deflected instead. "Shut. Up_._ Carver. Don't you have a sword to polish?" So much for restraining himself. If they made it out alive without him feeding Carver to the darkspawn, it would be a miracle.

"Don't you?" he shot back, with twice the snark.

Wyatt grabbed him, haranguing his brother with an arm slung around his neck. "Oh, you think you're so funny. Come on. Let's go before Sandal eats all the stew." Carver wrestled free from his sibling's clutches, griping all the while. The bickering was over and they tottered back to camp with growling stomachs.

**That evening**

Insomnia was not a familiar friend to Wyatt, who sat up in his bedroll, frustrated. Sleep didn't often elude him the way it would his father some nights. Restless evenings weren't uncommon in the Hawke household - at least not after both his and Bethany's magic came into being - but more often than not he had always been able to sleep heavily and for the length of the night. Sudden changes of scenery stopped keeping him awake after so many years of moving from place to place to avoid notice by the templars. Following the first move, from his birthplace in Edgehall to West Hill, it took weeks for him to adjust, but he had learned to adapt quite readily by the time they had settled in Lothering. Tonight was an outlier.

His eyes were open too wide for a restful mind and fixed on the interior of his tent, all detail or color completely lost to the darkness. Shapes formed out of shadows and he tried to spin a tale to settle his busy thoughts and push him under the soft haze of sleep, but to no avail.

Wyatt laid down once again, with his back flat against the bedroll and arms comfortably tucked beneath his head. Indecipherable mutterings could be heard beside him and he stole a jealous glance at Carver's vague shape, laying to one side and slumbering deeply still.

Closing his eyes meant little, but he tried all the same.

There was no slow awakening, no gradual adjustment to consciousness - panic forced his eyes open as it tore through his mind like a spike. With his mind followed his body, jolting upwards into action. Seconds passed before a modicum of understanding developed within his fogged mind - there had been a noise. Carver?

He looked to his left but found his brother still soundlessly resting and only just stirring slightly.

No. Not Carver. Something else. Something that pulled him from a warm bedroll and into the cooler cavernous air that pricked the bare skin of his chest the moment he emerged from the tent.

Shaking the sleep from him, he squinted in the darkness forcing his eyes to adjust. A dull headache plagued him after being woken so abruptly but Wyatt ignored the pain and trained his ear for a listen. What sounds he could pluck out of the white noise of dwarven and Mabari snores was muffled but unsettling. Not a soul stirred within the immediate vicinity but a pair of dwarves on watch who seemed undisturbed by the sounds coming from nearby.

Wyatt rubbed harshly at his eyes as he followed the direction of the noise to Anders' tent just to the left of his own. Frenzied rustling - sounds that would come from fitful tossing and turning - drifted out and a voice wrought with what could only be described as fright and desperation accompanied the noise. The realization that he left his staff behind with his things inside the tent came too late. A cold chill traveled down his bare back. He was ill-prepared for the things his mind conjured up - images of demons, shades, or even darkspawn that had somehow found their way into his companion's tent without notice.

However, what he found upon throwing the flaps open -

"Anders?"

The man had been caught in a slumbering fit, sheets clutched fiercely in twitching hands, visibly agitated or disturbed by something in his sleep. Concern tugged at his heart the more violent his friend's night terrors became. He threw caution to the wind and entered the tent, kneeling down beside the fretfully dreaming healer.

Nudging him gently, he called his name."Anders?"

Nothing.

Again, he tried shaking a little more firmly "Hey, Ande-"

The immediate area was bathed in a vivid blue brilliance shining through eyes that should have been a golden brown, through cracks threading through and across Anders' skin as he jolted upright suddenly. Instinct took over when the healer lashed out at a presumed attacker rather than reaching for his staff. Hands wreathed in the same blazing fade light lurched forward but sharp reflexes allowed Hawke to intercept them.

"Anders - it's just me! It's Hawke-"

A struggle commenced as Anders, still trapped in half-waking state and wrought with a touch of delirium, fought to pull away from him. "NO! You will not take me back there!

_Maker's ass, this is not ideal._

Wyatt acted on impulse as he pulled the man into an embrace, not stopping to consider other solutions or the potential danger the other mage might pose to him. Anders was a spirit healer but he was still one of the most formidable mages Wyatt had ever seen. He was still a fighter.

"It's alright! You're alright and you're safe." The heavy thudding of his companion's heartbeat against his own steadily slowed and the ragged, shallow breathing in his ears became deeper with each inhale and exhale. After a few minutes of silence, Ander's body relaxed against his own. Despite his own heart racing and wide-eyed stare, he didn't relent, but a shudder rolled through the smaller man and the light faded out with it like the tide.

The awkwardness only occurred to Hawke after his companion recovered but did not pull back right away. Carver's words were an echo in his mind but he didn't wish to startle Anders by suddenly letting go. Sucking in a breath through his nose, he feigned a calm smile. Truthfully he was still concerned for his friend's wellbeing so it was mostly genuine. "Anders?" He called again.

"Hawke?" Amber eyes opened wider, pupils dilating as he became fully aware and focused on what was in front of them. Anders composed himself quickly and broke away. "_Oh_ _Maker_, what happened?"

So much for not startling him. Wyatt, who looked on with alarm, immediately launched into apologies. "Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to - you were having a nightmare. You were just - I - shit, Anders. I was just concerned. I really shouldn't have-"

"Nightmare?" Anders looked away from him woefully.

In that fleeting moment between action and consequence, heat flooded Wyatt's face as he waited for judgment. "I heard noises coming from your tent here. I thought you were being attacked…" He had made a split-second decision without forethought, not knowing if it was at all appropriate or wise. Instinct had driven him. That was his only excuse.

"_Oh_. I see." Where he expected Anders to appear angry, or insulted, what he found instead was just the opposite. His demeanor changed as his shoulders relaxed and face softened in appreciation. He still refrained from making physical contact, but his body language said enough. "So you came rushing in to save the day?" Amber eyes stared back with warmth again, creasing at the corners when he smiled looking vaguely smug.

That did nothing for his embarrassment. Wyatt was sure now more than ever that the Maker had an awful sense of humor by putting him in situations like this. "Yeah - something like that."

"Thank you, Hawke. I appreciate the concern, and I'm sorry for waking you."

Relief chased away the tension in his muscles and he coolly shrugged. "I was already awake. Couldn't sleep. I'm going to get dressed and take over the watch. You're welcome to join me."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. I won't be getting back to sleep anytime soon and the company would be welcome at least."

Hawke forced himself to turn away back towards his tent if only to avert his gaze from the unfairly attractive mage as he rose from the bedroll. It was a test of willpower to avoid staring for too long.

This was going to be a _very_ long expedition.


End file.
